Albert Thomas arrives in Petrograd.---After
telling me I am shortly to be recalled, he explains the object
of his mission.---His confidence in the revolutionary fervour
of the Russian democracy; our views conflict. He sides with Kerensky
and against Miliukov in the dispute which has just begun between
the Provisional Government and the Soviet.---The Grand
Duke Paul and the revolution.---Particulars of the captivity
of the imperial family.---Public processions: the aesthetic instincts
of Russian crowds.---Anarchy makes progress in the public services
and the army.---The 1st May; processions and speeches in the
Champ-de-Mars.---A "concert-meeting" at the Michael
Theatre; political harangues with musical interludes; memories
of The House of the Dead; romanticspeech by Kerensky.---Embitterment
of the conflict between the Provisional Government and the Soviet;
Miliukov's brave resistance; fighting in the streets; Albert
Thomas supports Kerensky.---Russia's future; the inevitable consequences
of present happenings; a Persian parable.

Sunday, Apri1 22, 1917.

At eleven o'clock to-night Albert Thomas arrived at the Finland
Station with an impressive escort of officers and secretaries.

From the same train stepped about a score of famous exiles,
who have come from France, England and Switzerland; so the station
was decorated with red flags. A dense crowd was massed at all
the approaches. Numerous delegations, carrying scarlet banners,
were grouped at the entrance of the hall and the "Red Guard,"
which has replaced the civic police, lined the platform with the
finest specimens of apaches, sporting red ties and scarves, of
which the municipality can boast.

As soon as the train appeared, a storm of cheers burst forth.
But the station was badly lit; a clammy and icy fog made the air
thick; there was a chaotic accumulation of luggage and boxes all
over the place and almost invading the lines, so that the return
of the exiles was both triumphal and inauspicious.

Miliukov, Terestchenko and Konovalov went with me to welcome
the French mission. After the official salaams, I led Albert Thomas
towards my car, to the accompaniment of a general ovation.

This sight, a great contrast to what he had seen in May, 1916,
touched him in his revolutionary fibres. His eyes sparkled as
he glanced about him. More than once he said to me:

"Now we see the revolution in all its grandeur and beauty!"

At the Hotel de l'Europe, where a suite had been reserved for
him, we had a talk. I informed him of all that has happened since
he left France; I told him how much worse the situation has become
in the last fortnight; I described the dispute that has arisen
between Miliukov and Kerensky, and concluded by emphasizing the
considerations that in my opinion compel us to support the Minister
for Foreign Affairs because he stands for the policy of the Alliance.

Albert Thomas listened carefully and then countered:

"We must be extremely careful not to offend the Russian
democracy. The very reason for my coming is to look into all this.
We'll resume the conversation to-morrow."

Monday, April 23, 1917.

I had Miliukov, Terestchenko, Konovalov and Neratov, in addition
to my personal staff, to luncheon to-day to meet Albert Thomas.

The three Russian ministers affected to be optimistic. We discussed
the formation of two parties in the Government which is becoming
increasingly clear. With his usual good temper and great broad-mindedness,
Miliukov gave his views about the differences of opinion that
have arisen between Kerensky and himself. Albert Thomas listened,
questioned and said little except to express immense confidence
in the Russian revolution and pay it an eloquent and admiring
tribute.

When my other guests had left, Albert Thomas asked to have
a talk with me privately in my own room. There he said in serious
but friendly tones:

"Monsieur Ribot has given me a letter for you; he left
it to my discretion when I should hand it over to you. I have
much too high a regard for you not to give it you at once. Here
it is."

It was dated the13th April. I read it, without the
slightest surprise or emotion.(1) When I had
finished, I said to Albert Thomas:

"There is nothing in this letter with which I do not agree
and which I do not highly appreciate. Until my departure, which
it will be difficult for me to fix earlier than May 10th, I'll
give you all the help in my power."

He shook my hand warmly and replied:

"I shall never forget how dignified your attitude has
been, and it will be a pleasure to pay it a tribute in the telegram
I am sending to the Government of the Republic to-day."

After drawing up a programme of visits and operations with
me, he withdrew.

Tuesday, April 24, 1917.

I asked my English and Italian colleagues to lunch with Albert
Thomas to-day. Carlotti declared himself entirely in agreement
with me when I maintained that we must support Miliukov against
Kerensky and that it would be a grave error of judgment not to
place the political and moral authority of the Allied Governments
in the scale against the Soviet. I concluded with these words:

"With Miliukov and the moderates of the Provisional Government
we have still a chance of arresting the progress of anarchy and
keeping Russia in the war. Kerensky implies the sure and certain
triumph of the Soviet, which means giving the rein to all
the passions of the mob, the destruction of the army, the rupture
of national ties and the end of the Russian State. And if the
disintegration of Russia is now inevitable, at least let us refrain
from promoting it!"

"The whole strength of the Russian democracy lies in its
revolutionary fervour. Kerensky alone is capable of establishing,
with the aid of the Soviet, a government worthy of our
confidence."

Wednesday, April 25, 1917.

Albert Thomas and I dined at the British Embassy this evening.
But he was in my room as early as half-past seven; he had come
to tell me of a long conversation he had with Kerensky this afternoon,
the principal topic of which was the revision of "war aims."

Kerensky had insisted strongly on the necessity of undertaking
such a revision, in conformity with the resolution of the Soviet;
he thinks that the Allied Governments will lose all their
credit with the Russian democracy if they do not publicly abandon
their programme of annexations and indemnities.

"I confess," Albert Thomas said to me, "that
I am very much impressed by the force of his arguments and the
warmth he puts into his advocacy."

Then, repeating the metaphor Cachin used a day or two ago,
he summed up thus:

"We shall be obliged to throw out some ballast."

I argued contra that the Russian democracy was rather
too inexperienced, ignorant and uneducated to start claiming to
dictate to the democracies of France, England, Italy and America,
and that what is attacked is the whole policy of the Alliance.
He repeated:

"It doesn't matter! We must throw out some ballast!"

It was now nearly eight o'clock, so we left for the British
Embassy.

Among the other guests were Prince and Princess Sergei Bielosselsky,
Princess Marie Troubetzkoï, M. and Madame Polovtsov.

Albert Thomas was extraordinarily pleasant and kind and made
himself very popular by his wit, his animated and picturesque
conversation and total lack of affectation.

Yet two or three times I thought that his candour would have
benefited by being more discreet and less expansive and transparent.
For instance, he too obviously enjoyed expatiating on his past
as a revolutionary, his part in the railway strike of 1911 and
the emotional satisfaction he derives from finding himself here
in an atmosphere of popular tempest. Perhaps he only talks as
he does to avoid any appearance of disowning his political antecedents.

Then he told me that Kerensky had boasted to the Soviet
of having converted everyone, not excepting Albert Thomas,
to his own views, and already thinks himself sole director in
matters of foreign policy.

"Have you heard of the trick he's just played me?"
he added. "He has got the press to announce, in the form
of an official ' communiqué, that the Provisional Government
is drafting a note to the Allied Powers, stating in clear and
unmistakable language its views on war aims. So it was through
the papers that I, the Foreign Minister, first heard of this alleged
decision of the Provisional Government. That's the way I'm treated!
They are obviously trying to force my hand. I shall bring the
matter up before the Council of Ministers to-night!"

I made the best excuses I could for the behaviour of the socialist
deputies and said that they were inspired solely by the idea of
smoothing away difficulties.

An hour later I rejoined Albert Thomas at the Embassy and found
Kokovtsov who had come for lunch. As on the previous evening,
Thomas regaled us on anecdotes from the turbulent period of his
political past. But his memories of the incidents he talked about
were even more detailed and challenging. He not only tried to
avoid the appearance of disowning his past actions but tried to
demonstrate that, although he is now a minister of the Government
of the Republic, it is as a representative of the Socialist Party.
Kokovtsov, who is always politeness itself, took little pleasure
in these stories which revolted his instinctive feeling for order
and discipline and his reverence for tradition and the hierarchical
constitution of society.

After they left me, I thought over the new line which, it is
becoming increasingly clear, Albert Thomas means his mission to
take, and I decided to send Ribot the following telegram:

If, as I very much fear, the Russian Government asks us to
revise our previous agreements about peace terms, it is my opinion
that we must not hesitate to tell them that we stand firmly by
those agreements and insist once more on our determination to
continue the war to full and final victory.

If we do not refuse to enter into the negotiations into which
the leaders of the Social Democratic Party, and M. Kerensky himself,
hope to inveigle us, the consequences may well be irreparable.

The first effect would be to undermine all confidence in those
members of the Provisional Government such as Prince Lvov, M.
Gutchkov, M. Miliukov, M. Shingarev, etc., who are struggling
so heroically to revive Russian patriotism and save the Alliance.
We should also paralyse the forces in the rest of the country
and the army which have not yet been contaminated by pacifist
propaganda. These forces are very slow in reacting against the
despotic preponderance of Petrograd because they are ill-organized
and scattered, but they are none the less a reserve of national
energy which may have an enormous influence on the course of
the war.

The determined attitude which I am taking the liberty of recommending
to you admittedly involves some risk, in the last resort, of
the rupture of the Alliance. But, however serious that eventuality
may be, I prefer it to the consequences of the doubtful negotiations
which, so I am informed, the Socialist Party is preparing to
propose to us. The fact is that, even supposing we had to continue
the war without Russia's help, we should be in a position to
make our victory yield us a harvest of highly profitable advantages
at the expense of our defaulting ally. That prospect is already
very seriously agitating a large number of Russian patriots.
And if we take the opposite course, I am apprehensive that the
Petrograd Soviet will promptly assume control of affairs and,
with the complicity of the pacifists of all nations, force a
general peace upon us.

Before despatching this telegram, I thought it my duty to read
it to Albert Thomas, so I went to see him before dinner at the
Hôtel de l'Europe.

He listened, but without surprise as he knows what my views
are; but no sooner had I begun than a hard and uncompromising
look came into his eyes. When I had finished, he remarked in snappy
tones:

"I entirely disagree with you. Are you absolutely set
on sending this telegram?"

"Yes; I've thought over it very carefully."

"All right! Send it! But it will be your last!"

I told him that until I was officially relieved of my post
it was my duty to supply the Government with information. All
that I could do not to impede his mission was to refrain from
any kind of action. I added:

"I am sure that the course you are taking is wrong. So
when we are talking as man to man, I try to convince you of the
mistake and tell you everything that is in my mind. But in conversation
with third parties, I assure you I always endeavour to present
your views in the best possible light."

"I know you do, and I'm very grateful for it."

As we were separating, he pointed to some books on his table
which included some volumes of poems by Alfred de Vigny:

"Those books, he said, are my regular travelling companions.
You see what good taste I have."

We parted with a friendly handshake.

Friday, April 27, 1917.

Albert Thomas, in his anxiety to define his standpoint, has
sent Ribot a long telegram:

I have raised no objection to M. Paléologue's sending
the telegram of yesterday in which he reiterates his belief that
Russia will desert us in the near future, and recommends the
adoption of a firm attitude. That telegram will be his last.
Henceforth I have decided, on my own responsibility, to be the
Government's sole source of information and to determine with
it the course to be followed.

Whatever may be the difficulties---and they are exceedingly
formidable---with which the Provisional Government is struggling,
and however great the agitation of the anti-annexationist socialists,
it seems to me that neither the result of the war nor the fate
of the alliance is threatened.

In my view, the actual situation is as follows:

The socialists are requiring the Government, and more. particularly
M. Kerensky, to draft a diplomatic note inviting the Allies to
revise their war aims in concert. M. Miliukov thinks he cannot
yield to this demand. The Government is hesitating between. the
two courses. I think I shall be able to offer my services in
finding some provisional solution which will prevent the present
Government from being shaken or breaking up---a point I consider
of the very first importance.

Even if M. Miliukov should not get his own way and the Provisional
Government were to propose that we revise the agreements, I earnestly
hope that it will be taken calmly. We shall no doubt see some
more incidents, and perhaps even disorders. But all who are in
touch with the army assure me that a real improvement in the
situation is gradually taking place.

With encouragement and action on our side, revolutionary patriotism
over here can and must shake itself free. We must not allow an
unwise policy to alienate its sympathies from us.

I saw Albert Thomas again to-day. He said to me:

"I've made a point of accurately defining the issues on
which our two views are at variance. In a word, what divides us
is that you have no faith at all in the merits of the revolutionary
forces while I place implicit trust in them."

"I'm ready to admit that among the Latin and Anglo-Saxon
nations, revolutionary forces sometimes have an astonishing power
of organization and reconstruction. But with the Slav races they
can only be disruptive and destructive: they inevitably lead to
anarchy."

.

This evening I dined at Tsarkoïe-Selo with the Grand Duke
Paul and Princess Paley. It was purely a family party, including
the young Grand Duchess Marie Pavlovna, Vladimir Paley, and the
two girls, Irene and Natalia.

It was the first time I had been in the house since the revolution.

The Grand Duke was wearing a general's uniform, with the St.
George's Cross (though without the imperial monogram) but without
the shoulder knots of an aide-de-camp. He has preserved his calm
and unaffected dignity, but lines of woe are deeply etched upon
his haggard face. The Princess was simply trembling with grief
and exasperation.

Day by day and hour by hour, we reconstructed together the
tragic weeks through which we have just passed.

As we traversed the rooms on our way to lunch, thesame
thought struck us all simultaneously. We feasted our eyes on all
this splendour, the pictures, the tapestries, the profusion of
furniture and treasures of art. What was the good of all that
now? What would become of all these marvels and glories?
With tears in her eyes, the poor Princess said to me:

"Perhaps this house will be taken from us quite soon---and
I've put so much of myself into it!

For the remainder of the evening we were exceedingly depressed;
the Grand Duke and his wife are no less pessimistic than myself.

The Princess told me that as she was passing the railings of
the Alexander Park yesterday she had a distant glimpse of the
Emperor and his daughters. He was passing the time by breaking
the ice in a fountain with an iron-shod pole. He had been amusing
himself thus for more than an hour! A number of soldiers who were
also watching him through the railings, called out: "What'll
you be up to a few days hence, when the ice has melted?"
But the Emperor was too far away to hear.

The Grand Duke also told me something:

"The confinement of our unhappy sovereigns has become
so rigorous that we know practically nothing of what they are
thinking and doing. But last week I had a talk about them with
Father Vassiliev, who had just been taking the Easter services
in the palace chapel. He told me that he had been left alone with
the Emperor several times to carry out his religious duties, and
that at first he had found him extremely melancholy and dejected:
he spoke in low tones and seemed to be picking his words. But
after communion on Holy Thursday, the dear Emperor suddenly recovered
his spirits, and two days later his new mood inspired a very touching
little scene! No doubt you know that after the Resurrection mass
on Easter Eve, all true believers embrace each other to the accompaniment
of the words: 'Christ is risen!' That night the officer on duty
and several men of the guard had quietly followed the imperial
family into the palace chapel. When mass was over, the Emperor
went up to these men, who had kept to themselves, and disdaining
to regard them now as anything but Christian brothers, he gave
them all a reverent kiss on the mouth."

I started back for Petrograd at ten o'clock.

Saturday, April 28, 1917.

As Miliukov told me the day before yesterday, the French socialists,
with Albert Thomas to lead them, are making a fine mess of it
here!

Disconcerted by the insulting frigidity of the Soviet's
attitude towards them, they are under the impression that they
can soothe its susceptibilities and gain its goodwill by concessions,
obsequiousness and flattery. Their latest invention is to make
the restitution of Alsace-Lorraine subject to a plebiscite. They
are forgetting that Germany would hear nothing of a plebiscite
in 1871, and they affect to be unable to see that an appeal to
a popular vote which was organized by the German authorities would
necessarily be fictitious, and that the condition precedent to
a free vote would be the departure of the Germans across the Rhine---so
that we must first win the war at any cost. They also seem to
ignore the fact that France, in claiming Alsace-Lorraine, is simply
asking that a wrong shall be redressed.

.

Russian society, by which I mean the highest society in the
land, is a curious study at the present moment.

I have observed three currents of opinion, or rather three
attitudes of mind, towards the revolution.

In principle, all the former clientèle oftsarism, by which I mean all families contributing, by virtue
of birth or office, to the splendour of the imperial order, have
remained loyal to the fallen sovereigns. But I have also observed
that I hardly ever hear that loyalty expressed unless coupled
with severe, acrimonious, angry and bitter criticisms of the weakness
ofNicholas II, the errors of the Empress and the baneful
intrigues of their camarilla.

As always happens when parties are ejected from power, infinite
time is wasted over reminiscences of what has happened, the frantic
search for scapegoats and the futile interchange of retrospective
hypotheses and personal recrimination. In a political sense, this
section, large though it is, will soon cease to count, because
it lives on its memories more and more every day, and its only
concern with the present is to smother it with sarcasm and invective.

Yet even in these social circles I occasionally derive a different
impression, and usually at the close of some evening party when
the place-hunters and feather-heads have gone and the conversation
takes a more intimate turn. It is then that the possibility of
enlisting under the new order is examined in discreet, studied
and cautious terms. Is it not making a grave mistake not to support
the Provisional Government? Are we not playing the game of the
anarchists by refusing the present rulers the help of the conservative
forces? Usually there is but a feeble response to this language,
a fact which does not make it any less creditable and courageous;
for it is inspired by the loftiest patriotism and dictated solely
by the realization of public necessities and recognition of the
mortal perils with which Russia is menaced. But, so far as I know,
not one of those whom I have heard expressing this view has yet
dared to cross the Rubicon.

In the higher ranks of society I detect a third attitude towards
the new order.

To describe it fittingly would require nothing less than the
amusing verve and acid pen of Rivard. I am alluding to the secret
activities of certain salons, and the manuvres of
certain pridvorny, clever and ambitious officers or officials
whom one sees haunting the antechambers of the Provisional Government,
offering their help, cadging for jobs, impudently emphasizing
what a valuable example their political conversion would be, speculating
with calm effrontery in the prestige of their name and the undeniable
worth of their administrative or military talents. Some of them
seem to me to have done the turncoat business with remarkable
speed and agility. As Norvins said in 1814, "I had no idea
that snakes could change their skins so quickly." There is
nothing like a revolution to lay bare the depths of human nature,
to reveal the reverse of the social facade and show up what goes
on behind the scenes of the political masquerade.

Sunday, April 29, 1917.

Since the revolutionary drama began, not a day has passed without
its ceremonies, processions, charity performances and "triumphs."
There has been an uninterrupted series of demonstrations, demonstrations
of victory or protest demonstrations, inaugural, expiatory and
valedictory. The Slav soul, with its vague and fervent sensibilities,
its intuitive notion of the bond of humanity and its violent passion
for æsthetic and picturesque emotions, revels and wallows
in them. All the clubs and corporations, the political, professional,
religious and ethnical associations, have been here to lay their
grievances and aspirations before the Soviet.

On Easter Monday, the 16th April, I passed, not far from the
St. Alexander Nevski Monastery, a long line of pilgrims who were
marching to the Tauride Palace, reciting prayers as they went.
They carried large red flags on which could be read: "Christ
is Risen! Long live the free Church!" or, "A free and
democratic Church for a free People!"

The Tauride Gardens have thus witnessed processions of Jews,
Mohammedans, Buddhists, working men and women, peasants of both
sexes, school teachers, young apprentices, orphans, deaf mutes
and midwives! There has even been a procession of prostitutes!
Shades of Tolstoï! What an epilogue to Resurrection!

To-day it was the turn of mutilés of the war,
who came in their thousands to protest against the pacifist theories
of the war. At their head was a military band, and the front file
carried scarlet banners inscribed thus: "War for liberty
to our last breath!" or: "Let not our glorious dead
have died in vain!" or: "Look at our wounds! They call
for victory!" or: "The pacifists are disgracing Russia.
Down with Lenin!"

An heroic and pitiable sight! The least damaged of the victims
dragged themselves slowly along, keeping line as best they could.
Most of them had lost one or more limbs. The worst cases, swathed
in bandages, were fixed up on lorries. The blind were led by Red
Cross sisters.

This mournful troop seemed a living embodiment of all the horrors
of war and to stand for all that human flesh can endure in the
way of mutilation and torture. A religious silence greeted them;
heads were bared as they passed and eyes filled with tears; a
woman in mourning fell to her knees and sobbed as if her heart
would break.

At the corner of the Liteïny, where the crowd was thickest
and the working-class element best represented, there was loud
cheering.

But, alas, I very much fear that among these spectators who
came to cheer there is more than one who will go to welcome Lenin
to-night. The Russian nation is enthusiastic over "spectacles,"
whatever their purpose, so long as they affect its emotions and
stir its imagination.

Monday, April 30, 1917.

The forces of anarchy are swelling and raging with the uncontrollable
force of an equinoctial tide.

All discipline has vanished in the army. Officers are everywhere
being insulted, ragged and---if they object---massacred. It is
calculated that more than 1,200,000 deserters are wandering over
Russia, filling the stations, storming the carriages, stopping
the trains, and thus paralysing all the military and civil transport
services. At junctions in particular they seem positively to swarm.
A train arrives: they make its occupants get out, take their places
and compel the stationmaster to switch the train off in any direction
they like. Or it may be a train laden with troops for the front.
The men get out at some station, arrange a meeting, confer together
for an hour or two, and wind up by demanding to be taken back
to their starting point.

In the Civil Service there is no less disorder. The heads have
lost all authority over their subordinates, who in any case spend
most of their time in speechifying in the Soviets or demonstrating
in the streets.

Of course the food shortage shows no sign of improvement, if
indeed it is not getting worse. And yet there are in the stations
of Petrograd four thousand wagons loaded with flour. But the lorry
drivers refuse to work. Then the Soviet publishes an eloquent
appeal:

"Comrade Lorry-drivers!
Do not imitate the infamies of the old regime! Do not let your
brothers die of hunger! Unload the wagons!"

The comrade lorry-drivers answer as one man: "We will
not unload the wagons, because it is not our pleasure to do so.
We are free!!"

Then when the day comes in which it pleases the comrade lorry-drivers
to unload the wagons of flour, it is the turn of the bakers to
refuse to work. Then the Soviet publishes an eloquent appeal:

"Comrade Bakers
Do not imitate the infamies of the old regime! Do not let your
brothers die of hunger! Make bread!"

The comrade bakers answer as one man: "We will not make
bread, because it is not our pleasure to do so. We are free!"

In the streets many of the izvochtchiks are refusing
to keep to the left, because they are free. But as they are not
agreed about it, the result is continual collision.

The police, which was the main, if not the only, framework
of this enormous country, has simply ceased to exist, for the
"Red Guard, a kind of municipal militia instituted in some
of the large cities, is nothing but a hoard of outcasts and apaches.
And as all the prisons have been opened, it is miraculous that
more attacks on persons and property have not been reported.

Yet agrarian disorder is greatly on the increase, particularly
in the districts of Kursk, Voronej, Tambov and Saratov.

One of the oddest signs of the general derangement is the attitude
of the Soviets and their following towards the prisoners
of war.

At Schlusselburg the German prisoners are allowed to go about
unattended in the town. Within a distance of five versts from
the front one of my officers has seen bodies of Austrian prisoners
walking about without let or hindrance. To crown everything, a
regional conference of German, Turkish and Austro-Hungarian prisoners
has demanded---and successfully---that the "eight-hour day"
should be applied to them!

Tuesday, May 1, 1917.

According to the orthodox calendar to-day is the 18th April;
but the Soviet has decided that we shall nationally adopt
the Western style so as to fall in time with the proletariats
of all countries and illustrate the international solidarity of
the working classes, in spite of the war and the illusions of
the bourgeoisie.

During the last few days preparations have been in progress
for a colossal demonstration on the Champ-de-Mars. The weather
has not been favourable. The sky has been livid, the wind cold
and biting, and the Neva, which had begun to thaw, has piled up
its floes again.

From early morning all the bridges and avenues have been thronged
with processions proceeding towards the centre of the city, processions
of workmen, soldiers, moujiks, women, and children, ---each
preceded by tall red banners which had a fierce struggle with
the wind.

Perfect order prevailed. The long snaky lines advanced, retreated
and manuvred as easily as a troop of supers on the stage.
The Russian people has a rare sense of theatrical effect.

About eleven o'clock I went to the Champ-de-Mars with my secretaries,
Chambrun and Dulong.

The huge square was like a human ocean in which the swaying
of the crowd resembled the motion of waves. Thousands of red flags
fluttered above these living billows. A dozen military orchestras,
distributed at various points, made the welkin ring with the strains
of the Marseillaise, alternating with operatic and dance
selections. You cannot have a ceremony in Russia without music.

Nor can you have a ceremony without speeches. So the Soviet
had posted at fixed intervals motor lorries, hung with red
cloth, to serve as platforms. Orators followed each other in endless
succession, all of them men of the people, whether wearing the
workman's jacket, the soldier's greatcoat, the peasant's sheepskin,
the priest's cassock or the Jew's gabardine. They spoke as if
they would never stop, gesticulating vigorously. The audience
gave them the closest attention. There was no interruption and
everyone listened with glazed eye and strained car to these naive,
grave, confused and fervent outpourings, replete with illusions
and dreams, which have been germinating for centuries in the inarticulate
soul of the Russian people. The subject of most of the speeches
was social reforms and the partition of the land. The war was
only mentioned incidentally, and as an affliction which will soon
end in a brotherly reconciliation of all the nations. I spent
an hour walking about the Champ-de-Mars and in that time counted
about thirty-two banners bearing inscriptions such as: "Down
with the War! . . . . Long Live the Internationale! . . . .
We want Liberty, Land and Peace!"

As I was returning to the Embassy I passed Albert Thomas, escorted
by "Russian comrades"; his face fairly beamed with revolutionary
enthusiasm. As we met, he burst out:

"Isn't it splendid! Perfectly splendid!"

It was certainly a splendid spectacle; but I should appreciate
its beauty more if there were no war, France were not invaded
and the Germans had not been in Lille and Saint-Quentin for the
past thirty-two months.

Not until evening did the processions cease to file into the
Champ-de-Mars and the orators to follow each other in unbroken
succession on the platforms draped in scarlet.

To-day has made a very deep impression upon me; it marks the
end of a social order and the collapse of a world. The Russian
revolution is composed of elements too discordant, illogical,
subconscious and ignorant for anyone to judge at the present time
what its historical significance may be or its power of self-diffusion.
But if one thinks of the world drama of which it forms part, there
is a temptation to apply to it the remark which Joseph de Maistre,
in this very city, made about the trench Revolution: " It
is not a revolution but an epoch."

Wednesday, May 2, 1917.

A "concert-meeting" took place at the Michael Theatre
this evening: the proceeds are earmarked for the assistance of
former political prisoners. Several ministers were present and
Miliukov and Kerensky were down to speak. I accompanied Albert
Thomas in the great front box which used to be the imperial box.

After a symphonic prelude of Tchaikovsky, Miliukov made a speech,
a speech glowing with patriotism and energy. It was received with
approving cheers from the gallery to the stalls.

After him Kousnietzova appeared on the stage. Shrouded in her
tragic beauty, she sang the great air from Tosca in her voluptuous
and moving voice. The applause was vociferous.

But even before the audience had calmed down, a hirsute, sinister
and fierce-eyed figure rose from a box and yelled out angrily:

"I want to speak against the war, and in favour of peace!"

Uproar. Shouts from all sides:

"Who are you? Where have you come from? What were you
doing before the revolution?"

The man hesitated in answering. Then he suddenly folded his
arms and thundered out as if in defiance of his audience:

"I've come from Siberia; I was in prison!"

"Oh! Were you a political prisoner?"

"No, I was an ordinary criminal; but I had my conscience
on my side!"

This answer, fully worthy of Dostoïevski, aroused a tempest
of cheers:

"Hurrah! Hurrah! Speak! Speak!"

He jumped out of the box. He was seized, raised aloft and carried
to the stage over the heads of those sitting in the stalls.

Albert Thomas, sitting next to me, was in the seventh heaven
of delight. His face beaming, he snatched my hand and whispered:

"It's absolutely glorious! Wonderfully beautiful!"

The convict began by reading letters he had received from the
front to the effect that all the Germans ask is to fraternize
with their Russian comrades. He developed his theme, but expressed
himself awkwardly and groped for his words. The audience was bored
and became noisy.

At that moment Kerensky turned up. He was received with cheers
and asked to speak at once.

The convict, whom everyone had forgotten, protested vigorously.
A few hearty blows convinced him that his presence on the stage
was superfluous. He shook his fist and vanished into the wings.

But before Kerensky began his speech, a tenor appeared and
sang some of Glazounov's popular airs. As he had a delightful
voice and his diction was excellent, the audience, which was now
feeling sentimental again, had him back for three more songs.

At length Kerensky occupied the stage; he was even paler than
usual and seemed utterly worn out. In a few words he knocked the
convict's argument to pieces. But as if another train of thought
had passed through his mind, he suddenly gave utterance to the
following odd conclusion:

"If you will not believe in me and follow me, I shall
give up power. I will never use force to secure the acceptance
of my opinions . . . . When a country means to cast itself into
the gulf, no human power can prevent it and those who conduct
its government have only one course open to them---to retire."

As he was coming down from the stage with a tired and dispirited
air, I turned his strange theory over in my mind and felt like
replying: "When a country means to cast itself into the gulf,
the duty of its rulers is not to retire but to place themselves
in its path even at the risk of their lives."

There was another orchestral item and at length came the turn
of Albert Thomas to speak. In a short and vehement speech, he
greeted the proletariat of Russia and boasted of the patriotism
of the French socialists; he again proclaimed the necessity of
victory, in the very interest of the future of society,
and so forth.

At least nine-tenths of the audience did not understand him.
But his voice was so sonorous, his eyes flashed forth such fire,
and his gestures were so superb that a torrent of frantic and
approving cheers greeted the conclusion of his speech.

Thursday, May 3, 1917.

Yielding to the pressure of the Soviet, Kerensky and,
unfortunately, Albert Thomas too, Miliukov has bowed to the necessity
of informing the Allied Governments of the manifesto issued on
the 9th April to enlighten the Russian nation about the views
of the Government of free Russia on the subject of war aims, a
manifesto which can be summarized in the famous expression: "No
annexations, no indemnities." But he has added an explanatory
note which, couched in intentionally vague and diffuse terms,
does what is possible to counteract the arguments of the manifesto.

The Soviet has been sitting all night, proclaiming its
determination to have this note withdrawn and make Miliukov "harmless"
in future. In fact, a fierce dispute with the Government is in
progress.

There has been much excitement in the streets since early morning.
Groups have gathered at all points to listen to impromptu speeches.
About two o'clock the character of the demonstrations became more
serious. A collision between Miliukov's supporters and opponents
took place in front of Our Lady of Kazan and the former gained
the day.

Before long the regiments of the garrison emerged from their
barracks and marched through the streets of the city, shouting:
"Down with Miliukov! Down with the war!"

The Government is in permanent session at the Marie Palace,
having firmly decided that this time it will make no further concessions
to the tyranny of the extremists. Kerensky alone has refrained
from taking any part in its deliberations; he feels that his position
as Vice-President of the Soviet leaves him no other course.

This evening the agitation became more intense. More than 25,000
armed men and a huge mob of workmen collected round the Marie
Palace.

The Government's position is critical; but its resolution has
not wavered. From the top of the steps which give a splendid view
of the Marie and St. Isaac Squares, Miliukov, General Kornilov
and Rodzianko have been bravely haranguing the crowd.

At length a rumour began to spread that the Tsarskoïe-Selo
regiments, which have remained faithful to the Government, are
marching on Petrograd. The Soviet seems to think it is true, as
it hastily issued an order that the demonstrations are to cease.
What will happen to-morrow?

I have been thinking all day over the lamentable mistake Albert
Thomas has made in supporting Kerensky against Miliukov. In view
of his persistence in what may be called "the revolutionary
illusion," I decided to-night to send Ribot the following
telegram:

The gravity of the events in progress and the sense of my
responsibility compel me to ask you to confirm by direct and
express order that you have instructed M. Albert Thomas I am
not to communicate with you.

Friday, May 4th, 1917.

About ten o'clock this morning Albert Thomas came to the Embassy
as usual: I immediately told him of yesterday's telegram.

He flew into a rage. Striding up and down, he treated me to
a torrent of reproach and invective.

But the storm was too violent to last.

After a moment's silence, he crossed the room twice, frowning
fiercely' his arms folded and his lips moving as if he were talking
to himself. Then his face cleared up, and in a calmer tone he
asked:

"What is your objection to my policy?"

"I don't find any difficulty in answering you," I
said.

"Yours is a mind formed in the socialistic and revolutionary
school; you are also very emotional and possess oratorical imagination.
You have arrived here in highly inflammable, stirring and intoxicating
surroundings and you've been captured by your milieu."

"Can't you see I'm always keeping a tight hold on myself?"

"Yes, but there are times when you let yourself go. The
other night, at the Michael Theatre, for instance. . . ."

Our talk continued in the same strain, incidentally leaving
us both exactly where we were before.

.

Stormy yesterday was unquestionably a triumph for the Government
over the Soviet. I have had confirmation of the report
that the Tsarskoïe-Selo garrison had threatened to march
on Petrograd.

During this afternoon there have been renewed demonstrations.

Whilst I was having tea with Madame P----- on the Moïka
about five o'clock, we heard a great din coming from the Nevsky
Prospekt, followed by the sound of rifle fire. Fighting was in
progress before Our Lady of Kazan.

As I was returning to the Embassy I passed some armed bands
of Leninists who were yelling: "Long live the Internationale!
Down with Miliukov! Down with the war!"

Bloody collisions continued in the evening.

But the Soviet has taken fright, as it did yesterday.
It is afraid of finding itself thrust on one side and supplanted
by Lenin. It is also afraid that the Tsarskoïe-Selo troops
will march on the city; so it has hastily issued posters with
an appeal for restraint and order, "to save the revolution
from the catastrophe with which it is threatened."

By midnight peace had been restored.

Saturday, May 5, 1917.

The city now wears its wonted appearance.

But, judging from the arrogant tone of the extremist press,
the Government's victory is a precarious one . the days of Miliukov,
Gutchkov and Prince Lvov are numbered

Sunday, May 6, 1917.

I have had a talk with the great metallurgist and financier,
Pertilov; we exchanged gloomy forecasts of the inevitable consequences
of present events.

"A Russian revolution," I said, "can only be
disruptive and destructive. because the first effect of a revolution
is to liberate popular instincts, and the instincts of the Russian
people are essentially anarchic. Never before have I so well understood
the prayer wrung out of Pushkin by Pugatchev's adventure: May
God spare us the sight of another Russian revolution, a thing
of horror and absurdity!"

"You're familiar with my views on the subject. I believe
Russia is entering upon a very, very long period of disorder,
misery and ruin."

After a moment's solemn silence, he continued with a very tense
expression:

"In the plains of Khorassan there was once a great drought,
from which the cattle suffered cruelly. A shepherd, seeing his
sheep on the point of death, sought out a famous sorcerer and
said to him: 'Thou art clever and powerful: canst thou not make
the grass of my fields grow again?' 'Nothing easier,' replied
the other. 'It will cost you only two tomans.' A bargain was struck
on the spot, and the magician proceeded at once to his incantations.
But neither on the next day nor the days following could the smallest
cloud be seen in the sky; the ground became harder and harder;
the sheep continued to starve and die. In his alarm the shepherd
soon returned to the sorcerer, who overwhelmed him with words
of comfort and counsels of patience. But the drought still continued
and the ground became utterly baked up. Then the shepherd became
desperate, rushed back to the sorcerer and asked him anxiously:
'Are you quite sure you can make the grass of my fields grow again?'
'Absolutely; I've done things far more difficult hundreds of times!
I'll guarantee that your fields will be green again. But I cannot
guarantee that between now and then your sheep will not all be
dead.'

The Government has considered it a wise step to send the Minister
of Munitions of War to Petrograd on an extraordinary mission.
You told me that M. Albert Thomas, in view of the pleasant memories
he left behind him in Russia and the influence he may be able
to exert in certain quarters, would be well received by the Provisional
Government, and particularly M. Miliukov.

In order that he may have a full and fair field for his activities,
I should be glad if you would be good enough to return to France
on leave, after settling with him the time of your departure.
You will hand over the business of the embassy to M. Doulet,
who will carry it on as Chargé d'Affaires until
the appointment of your successor.

It has seemed to the Government that your position of favour
with the Emperor would make it more difficult for you to carry
on your duties under the present government. You will realize
that in new circumstances a new man is required, and you have
told me, with a delicacy of feeling I highly appreciate, that
you were ready to sacrifice yourself by laying aside all personal
considerations. I take this opportunity of thanking you for this
proof of your disinterestedness, which does not surprise me in
a man like you, and of telling you at the same time that we will
not forget the great services you have rendered our country.

When you return to France, we will discuss together what sort
of position we can find for you, and do everything in our power
to meet your convenience and interest.